


The 'Fastest Gun in the West' Routine

by gimmeshellder



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol, F/F, Mystery Girl POV, many many cliches from our favorite renegade, pearl's dating app adventure continues, sentence fragments abound, some mental health mentions, unrepentant lesbianing, wine mom Pearl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 14:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20996435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmeshellder/pseuds/gimmeshellder
Summary: First dates always got that whole song and dance, man. Sheena needs to stop playing along.





	The 'Fastest Gun in the West' Routine

**Author's Note:**

> BIG THANKS to [ TheBlindBandit ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlindBandit/) for tireless jamming and idea-bouncing!!!
> 
> This can be read on its own, or as a continuation of ["Describe Yourself in Five Words."](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20626532)
> 
> I remember seeing K-PAX in theaters as a kid, and while I absorbed virtually nothing else about the movie, the “‘fastest gun in the west’ routine” ended up being one of those lines I think about every couple of years! I can’t say I recommend the movie itself but it’s got some interesting bits. And despite the latter's last name I think Pearl makes a much more compelling intergalactic lesbian than Kevin Spacey

Tipper & Slack up the street is usually more her speed, or Filthy McNasty’s when she’s got a wild hair, but Sheena branches out into Plum Bar for tonight. Cloth napkin type spot. Little too blueblood. She’d been on the fence. They could likely make it work in a grungier spot since she met “_Light Girl” _at a house show, yeah. But Sheena gets the impression tonight requires a little delicacy. At least by first date standards.

Good etiquette dictates showing up early. Or at least on time. So when Sheena trudges in with fifteen to spare, she gets a wave of _ whoops _ seeing Pearl already seated and waiting. Corner table, not too crowded around. Pearl looks queasy. Smiles, though, waves. Cute. The outfit she’s got on blends better than Sheena’s: tidy collared shirt and tie, some retro-looking jacket over the back of her chair. Nice switch from the figure skater get-up from the show. Kind of a mom butch vibe. Bubbly-awkward, long legs, nice voice. 

_ Definitely _ a weirdo. But like. It works for her.

Sheena waves back. Easy grin. Yeah, damn, this is kind of a black tie joint. She decides not to notice. If anyone wants to give a snide glance at her flannel and jeans as she walks over, first they have to squint through the dirty aquarium lighting. 

Pearl edges out of her seat and... flutters her hands at her side, a moment. Like she’s wiping her palms dry. Or smoothing something down. Then she folds them behind her back, and for some reason twitches a clear inch into the air like something bit her, and finally sort of… steeples them over her diaphragm. Like an opera singer. She seems to clear her throat, quiet, and opens her mouth --

\-- but _ crack, _she flinches again when something clinks too loud behind the bar. A saxophone riff starts up from the music track. Someone fake-laughs to the right, real businesslike. 

And in the meantime Pearl wilts. Just a little. “Ah.” Her hands wring. Then she sweeps one at the table, darts her eyes to the floor and back. “I wonder if you would --”

Sheena goes for the handshake. Easy, easy grin. Waited long enough to help the poor thing out.

“Oh!” Pearl laughs, once. She takes it, shakes. Then they both have a seat. The relief on her face is huge. Nervous smile is still there, though. “I’ve been advised that handshakes are out of vogue.”

Sheena's shrug is loose, still grinning. She gets a lot of mileage out of it. "Shit’s cyclical. You could bring it back.” The corner of Pearl’s mouth twitches. Oops. “Sorry. I can clean up the sailor mouth.”

“It’s perfectly fine!” Big relief! All over her face. She shifts in her seat and clears her throat behind her fist. Yeah. She actually does that. “Yes. Well, anyway, I’m happy that you found me online.” 

Sheena, too. Damn near fell off the couch when that face popped up on her phone. How long? Couple months, by then? Sheena barely skimmed the profile before tapping up a message. Then she wavered on it, though. Over reaching out. Sheena already gave her number. What more did she have to do? Even if she made the first move at the show, it could've been that Light Girl was less than impressed and just took the little paper scrap out of politeness.

They’d talked, what. Thirty seconds? Haha, damn. Personal record for Sheena sparking a 180.

But nah; apparently she’s just kind of clueless.

Sheena props her chin on her fist and braces elbow to the tabletop. Even tilts her head a little. “Washed the pair of jeans with my number in it, right?”

Pearl likes the playful tone. Must be encouraging. She scoots up closer in her seat. “I frequently do laundry, yes.”

Alright. Sheena gives her a chuckle for that one. Bit of a wiseass. “Really though. It's been awhile. I was starting to think you weren’t interested.”

“Oh! Oh, _no --” _She parts invisible curtains as she shakes her head. Dramatics look good on her. “You should know this is simply very new for me, in….” Her eyes dart. “It’s new for me.” Nervous laugh. 

Nice side-step. 

“Don’t tell me.” Sheena tugs her eyebrows up. “You don’t do this kind of thing very often.” 

Pearl nods. It’s small but staccato, _ dip-dip-dip_. Her expression feels awfully… open. “It’s… yes! I’m learning as I go.”

Huh. 

Should probably leave off with the tongue-in-cheek. Whatever cliché tumbles out of this chick's mouth, she appears to mean it in earnest. 

And yeah. She _ does _ look nervous. Seems determined to take up as little physical space as possible. And keeps casting looks over Sheena’s shoulder at the rest of the room, with the big cartoon doe eyes that broadcast everything going on behind them. Right now?: looks like they’re tickling piano scales up and down through _ nauseous-anxious-giddy-ecstatic_. And like yeah, it’s cute, and she’s got a brave face on, but Sheena would rather her date didn’t bolt at the next loud noise.

She must take too long chewing on it. Pearl titters, shifting in her seat. She might smooth her hands over her thighs again. “I haven’t been here before.”

“Same. No sweat.” Sheena can shoot for reassuring. Sure. “If you ever wanna blend in somewhere, just look bored as you can.” She winks, taps underneath her eye. “Advice from a friend.”

Ooh, Pearl’s not big on that one. 

“... I’ll keep that in mind.” Her smile goes dubious.

Swing and a miss. Sheena makes the adjustment. She straightens up, herself -- drums a quick tattoo on the tabletop with her fingertips. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Er... oh! I…” Pearl blinks a few times. She looks troubled.

Huh.

Fuck, wait. She might be in recovery? Sheena wrings out her brain, trying to remember any mention of it on her profile. She _ had _skimmed fast. Suddenly her kid gloves approach feels like hamfisted boilerplate.

“Unless it’s not your thing,” she cuts in, smooth, “There’s a coffee place nearby if you wanna get out of here.”

If anything, that flusters Pearl more. She pulls her hands off the table to fiddle with her tie. “Ingestion... _ in general _is something of a challenge.”

Oh. Right. 

The whole… indigo child thing. Sheena still isn't one thousand percent on where to go with that. Pearl’s profile listed her as 32 but another portion insisted _ My current iteration is 11,677 years old. All told, I estimate to have come into existence roughly 16,000 years ago. _

Total Virgo weirdo. Cute. Bit of a shock she wouldn't mention anywhere.

"Ah… Right. Made of light." Sheena wiggles her hand in a lazy _ ‘Ta-da.’ _ "Well, I'm gonna grab a beer. Anything I can get you?"

She's already shaking her head halfway through the sentence. Seems the piano scales are now firmly circling the ‘nauseous’ end of the spectrum. Haha… okay.

Sheena parks at the bar and eyes the taps. Ooh. They got that caramel stout she likes. A quick wave catches the clean-pressed barkeep’s eye, but before she can get a word out he leans in close, jabs a finger at Pearl and says, “You’re with _ her? _”

Mm. Never a good start. Sheena meets his eye. Heavy, steady. “And?”

“Is she _ alright?” _ There’s a little drop of sweat creeping into his gelled mustache. Looks like smoothing things down is a nervous tic of his, too. “She’s been sitting there since open.”

… huh. “What time do you open?”

“_Noon._”

Sheena checks her phone. 7:22. _ Oof. _ Yeah that’s a rough look. She gives the shrug-off a shot anyway. “... what’s a bar doing open at noon, anyway.”

“We have small plates at lunch hours. During which she didn’t order a single thing, even _ water, _ or get up from her seat _ once._” 

_ Oooof. _

Poker face. Sheena curls a look over her shoulder at the table: one cloth napkin has been origami-ed into an intricate flower. Pearl is halfway through the same with the other. The clench in her shoulders has thawed out, some. Must be relaxing.

“She’s… eh... doing a cleanse.” Sheena jerks her chin at the tap, and steers clear of his baffled stare. “Let me get a caramel stout.” 

He can expect an extra tip if he’s not a dick about it.

The wait gives her a chance to double-check Pearl’s profile. No recovery. Nothing, seems, that Sheena needs to be especially delicate about. Also nothing that might explain camping out eight hours early. 

But Sheena’s dated more than one off-the-radar type of gal. Nothing she hasn’t seen before.

“So.” She lets the glass _clunk_ as she takes her seat again. No need to set the napkin-flower aside; Pearl already placed it out of the way. Considerate. “A gem.”

Pearl nods, twice, quick. She seems more relaxed but fidgets with her napkin-flower. Tugs it a bit closer. “Yes.” 

“‘An intergalactic being of mass-infused light.'"

“C-correct!" She perks. Must be pleased with the accuracy.

Cute. Her lips twitch. Sheena hides it behind her first sip. “How’s that going for you?”

Pearl smiles. (It’s a good smile.) Her cheeks get a little darker, too, but the color’s off -- must be all the fucked up auteur lighting. “_Very _ well, lately.”

Ooh, _ very. _Sheena wiggles an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re enjoying DecentVenus so far.”

“Er, yes. Other things in my life have been going well… but that, too. There’s less hesitation than I expected in response to my profile.” She turns her eyes back down to her flower, tugging to tighten the petals. “Truthfully, I often _ pass _ as human at a glance, but the more information offered to or gleaned by outside parties, the more... hmm. _ Consternation _ seems to result. 

“I hope you wouldn’t try to list everything in your profile.”

“Oh, no. It took me quite some time to be willing to discuss with humans.” Her mouth flattens and she raises one palm, guilty. “Ah, no offense.”

“None taken.” Another pull of stout hides her grin. “Then what about you would kick up a fuss?”

Another party is seated next to them. Bunch of _ Empire Times-_looking types. Lots of jostling and coat-draping over chairs. It gives Pearl some time. 

“What would… surprise them?” Pearl asks. Sheena should lay off the figurative shit. Or tone it down, at least. “Well there is, the…” Pearl gestures to the big white stone on her forehead.

Haha, oop. “I mean...” The thing _ is _ the size of a small lemon. “_I _wasn’t gonna say anything.”

Flat smile. Pearl begins unfolding her flower. The way she tilts her chin feels like she’s loading up on another thought to share, but she says nothing else. The lull pulls on like taffy while Sheena tries to tune out the surrounding voices.

The distraction has a lot to do with her blurting, “It’s real, right?” The stone. Probably good for her chakras, or something.

“Real...” Pearl blinks. Oop. That’s a frown. 

Hot potato topic. Sheena’s on the move: she leans, elbows bracing. Can’t hurt to show she’s interested. “Could I…?” Her hand comes up across the table, slow. 

\-- and Pearl flinches back an inch. She goes dark in the cheeks, over her nose. “Oh!”

“Sorry.” Shit. Her hand drops. “Sorry, was that weird?”

“It’s…” Pearl’s laugh is skittery. There’s no stray lick of hair that Sheena can see, but Pearl finds one to tuck one behind her ear. Dips her chin. As images go, it’s very high-school-by-the-lockers. “That’s a rather intimate request.”

Sheena pulls both hands back. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to creep.”

“No, it’s quite alright. You didn’t know.” Her throat clears. It’s a dainty sound. “A gem’s... well, _ gem_… you might consider it similar to a human’s heart and brain combined.” Pearl’s braced on the table now, too. Maybe having Sheena on her heels stokes her confidence. She’s even recovered that inch, and a little extra. “It _ is _us.”

Sheena nods along, nursing her beer. They’ve both got the same strategy when it comes to powering through awkward moments.

“It’s the center from which we draw our powers, but it’s also rather vulnerable for the exact same reason.” Her fingers fold over themselves. Just like napkin origami, explaining things relaxes her. "So you can understand why… with an acquaintance…"

“Glad we’re sticking to handshakes.” It doesn’t get a laugh, but that’s alright. “So what about your heart and brain?”

“Pardon?”

“Gem hearts. And gem brains.” Sheena doesn’t mind playing along, within reason. “Are those less important?”

“Ah.” She blinks. Her tone dips, iffy. “Welllll, we... don’t have any.”

No heart and no brain. There’s a Wizard of Aus joke in there but Sheena won’t bother with it. “So you don’t have _ any _organs." 

Yeah. Pearl _ definitely _ chills out with a little lecture. Her body language is more confident. She’s leaning forward more, and letting her hands rest on the table near Sheena’s. They’re long. “Not in the sense you mean, no. I’m made of tactile light. I can _ feel _ things, and detect chemical composition in the surrounding environs, and obviously am capable of sight and hearing when nothing obfuscates. But we gems need to adjust our forms to incorporate any central nervous systems, blood vessels, digestive tracts, or other features of yours -- _ bones, _ even -- or reproductive sys… tems.” Her face goes stiff.

Oh. Cool? There’s something up. Sheena watches as Pearl holds some private conversation within herself. Her eyes pinch. Her lips wring, then purse. A flicker of muscle in her jaw says she’s clenching it.

Sheena waits.

Conversation blurs in from other parts of the room, more crowded than before. Couple tuxes. Maybe ten seconds pass like that. But then Pearl’s whole presence smooths over, and she loosens, perking upright in her seat. 

And of course sees Sheena’s been staring.

“What?” Her chin ducks like she bit her tongue. And her cheeks go dark again in the terrible lighting. Shit, that’s cute. “What’s the matter?”

Yeah, caught staring. Guilty. Sheena lets herself smile. “Nothing. You good?”

“I’m… good.” Still a little distracted. That’s okay. If she wants to talk about it, or doesn’t. Either way.

“No organs makes the whole drinking thing tough, eh.” Maybe an eating disorder. It's none of Sheena's business. “Sorry. I should have asked if you wanted to do something different.”

“No, you did nothing wrong! It’s a perfectly typical and accessible outing, by most human standards, and I could have…” 

She trails off, eyes low. Her shoulders lock up. There's another internal tennis match. But fiery this time. Pearl’s eyes cut upward and Sheena feels her teeth click when Pearl fixes her with a hard stare. “I am here. And I am trying new things. Yes.” She hoists herself in her seat like a mainsail; clears her throat. Even _ that _sounds melodic. “Sheena. I would like to sample some of your beverage.”

Well.

“Inching open the comfort zone.” Sheena leaves a little curve on that one. She can’t help it. “Good on you.”

“Yes. Just a moment.” Her eyes close briefly. Long lashes. The lids are pale enough that they flirt with transparent. It’s a little spooky. But then they open again. “Alright. I’m ready.”

Sheena quirks her mouth. “Awful quick peptalk.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing. Just expected a more involved psych-up.”

“Oh… oh, no, self-incitement isn’t the central challenge. Though that does help.” She shifts in her seat, already seizing up Sheena’s glass. “I’ve shapeshifted a digestive tract, central nervous system, and other necessities to properly imbibe and experience the perception-altering effects of alcohol.”

… okay.

“You did all that just now.” It comes out dull, but she feels a grin itching.

“Yes.” Blink. Cute. “Why?”

Sheena chuckles. There’s some apology in how she swirls the last third of her beer. Listen, she’s not big on busting chops. “So fast, you can’t even see her. The woman who can outdraw her own shadow.”

Pearl frowns, uncomprehending. 

"You're a regular Annie Oakley, huh." Sheena's known a few. Not trying to pick on her, though. It’s harmless make believe. So Sheena smiles to take off any sting.

The confused look holds as Sheena brings her glass up to her lips again. Then Pearl’s mouth pops open and her eyes widen, _ lightbulb!,_ for just a split second before her face smooths into something wry.

“Ah._” A_n oddly heavy sound. She shrinks back in her seat, just a little. Her smile’s tart. “You’re skeptical.”

Sheena shrugs. It’s sheepish. “I’m very visual.”

Pearl watches her quietly for a few seconds. Then she laughs, small. It’s not the kind of laugh Sheena liked from before. Got a tang of defeat to it. “What is it called… irony.” Still smiling, uncertain, Pearl shakes her head at the table. Her hands withdraw back to her lap.

Way to kill the buzz. Shit. Sheena’s about to take it back when Pearl’s eyes come up again. But different from before. Sheena feels _ studied. _Maybe Pearl is visual, too. 

“My understanding is that, optimally, none of those would be external organs.” 

And definitely a wiseass. 

Alright, white flag time. Sheena shows she’s empty-handed. “Point taken.” The glass slides over the linen tablecloth with a satisfying rasp. “Still wanna try?”

Pearl’s shoulders square again; her chest puffs. Jeez. Like she’s heading off to war. Sheena stuffs back a snort at the grim look on her face as Pearl wraps her fist delicately around the glass. Her glare is hard enough to hang a picture on. When she fails to make the glass explode with psychic beams out of her eyeballs, she brings it carefully to her lips.

Sheena edges closer.

Pearl tips the glass… holds… and then yanks it away with enough violence to send a good $4 worth sloshing. Her pretty face twists -- her tongue _ actually sticks out _ \-- she _ actually goes “blegh!” -- _

Sheena tries to choke down her laugh, she really, really does. Oh well. Beyond worth it for the nasty looks shot their way from the starboard side. “Not your jam, huh?”

Poor girl’s look is all betrayal. The glass comes thunking down again, and she repels it back across the table with disgust. “Is it _ supposed _ to taste like that?”

“Yeah. Kind of acquired.” Another little showy swirl with the glass, and Sheena throws back the last swallow’s worth. Just a _ smidgeon _smug. “I was gonna get a fresh one. Can I get you something easier on the palate?”

Ooh. And Pearl _ catches _the smugness. Whoops. Maybe she takes it as a challenge because her chin juts and her eyebrows draw back in. Bold is a good look at her. Even if it makes it seem like she's staring down the barrel of a barfight instead of a… bar. “Yes. You may. Thank you.”

“Do you like wine?” Sheena asks, because she hasn’t been listening, apparently.

“I have no idea.” 

Maybe a dry white. 

"I'll be right back. Don't wander off, cowpoke." She slides out of her seat and pretends not to take in Pearl’s mixed expression. Got some _ great _expressions. Great smile. It’s enough that Sheena doesn’t care about the confused grunt from the barkeep that a “woman on a cleanse” is now throwing back some wine. It’s whatever. Sheena grins to herself as she waits, sneaking another look at the profile on her phone.

(Got a kid at home. Too early to ask about that?) (Probably.)

When Sheena trudges back with a dewy glass of Riesling and a fresh stout for herself, she feels a tug in her stomach at the state of her date. Pearl looks distracted. A little sulky, almost.

She keeps her voice cool. “Feel alright?”

“Do you truly not believe me?”

It’s frosty but fragile. Pearl watches the table as she asks. 

Mm. That’s one to hold for a minute. Sheena does. 

She carefully places the two glasses down, and resettles in her seat. No rush. Take your time. “I don’t know you yet. That’s all.” The linen sighs against the bottom of her glass. “I’m still figuring out what it all means.”

Sheena waits for more of a thought to emerge. Dusty laughter behind her, fizzled conversation. Low jazz. 

Pearl finally looks up again. But she doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer. Her own comes out like gravel. “I suppose these things take time.”

But her shoulders loosen. Her fingers slow the fidgeting. 

“I got nothing but time tonight.” Sheena tries for her easy grin. “Let’s toast to it.”

“Oh.” Pearl’s face clears, and she blinks. “Yes.” 

They do. It’s corny. It’s fine. Pearl even goes “ooh,” and smiles a little at the vibration, the _ tink, _ and it makes the easy grin even easier.

She’s no less suspicious of the wine. But Pearl still takes a minute to admire it up close. The Riesling catches glimmery on the candlelight as she does -- the refraction scatters a buckshot of soft gold across Pearl’s cheek, her jaw. Just beneath her eyes. “It’s a lovely color.”

Sheena hums. Agreeing. After a moment. She’s gorgeous.

There’s less wind-up this time. Pearl gives the glass a cautious sniff, seems to find it acceptable… and takes a small sip. Her fingertips snap to her lips, eyes wide. “Oh!”

It’s impossible not to laugh. Just a_ little. _ Sheena makes sure it’s good-natured, though. “Better than the stout?”

“... yes. It’s rather nice.” Her cheeks are getting dark again. “The temperature is _ cool, _but it’s very warming.”

“Yeah.”

Her fingers trace dreamy along her throat, once. Must feel like tender fire there. “It caught me by surprise.”

Sheena nods, taking another swallow of her own. “That’s the body telling you ‘Hey pal, you’re drinking toxins.’ Like a low grade allergic reaction.”

That yanks Pearl’s mouth tight. “Then why do it?”

Well. “The warmth is nice. Right?” Sheena shrugs. “And it can be fun. Makes people feel silly, or more creative.” Or turns them into assholes. Depending.

“I see.” Not that it sounds like it. Pearl lifts her chin, generous, “You _ are _ a very durable species.”

Sheena raps a knuckle against her bicep and clicks her tongue, like she’s raw cast iron. “Cascade-made, Delmarva-based.” She doesn’t miss the way Pearl traces the muscle with her eyes. 

“Cascade… that’s the other side of the continent.” Pearl settles in. Again. She dares another tiny sip and leans closer. “What brought you here?”

“School mostly. New start. You know.” She had a wild hair up her ass when she was younger, really. To go all scorched earth. “Here’s been home for awhile now.”

“‘School’… university? Yes?” She’s encouraged by the grin. “What did you study?”

The table thumps under her elbows as Sheena props them up. She squints one eye, and frames her fingers around an invisible box, aimed right for Pearl: _ click. _“Photography.”

Come to think of it, Pearl would probably picture well. Very photogenic. 

“That’s a field of study? Amethyst does that with her phone.” Her hand slaps over her mouth, eyes wide, “Oh! I don’t mean…” 

Ah. Sheena scrounges up a wry smile. She waves her off. It’s not a big deal. “Don’t sweat it.”

“No, that was rude.” Pearl pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth. “I apologize. I’m learning. This is all rather --”

“-- new to you, yeah. I get it.” Sheena does. Not like she hasn’t heard it before. “And it’s true, it’s an easy thing to do like shit.” Whoops. Trying to clean up the mouth. The pull on her stout is a little bigger than intended. So Sheena has to clear her throat, after. An itch on the back of her neck has her scratching, and she lets her eyes slide around the corner of the room. “Hence the school.”

“What do you enjoy about it?” 

Back to powering through. Yeah. Alright. Sheena’ll take it. A big sigh has her leaning in her seat, heavy on the backrest. Pops her neck, thinking.

”Two big ones.” She holds up a couple fingers; wiggles them. “First, I like a medium that makes use of what’s present. What’s real.” She lets her fingertips drum the tabletop, _ donk donk. _ “Some call that unimaginative. _ But _ \--” down to one finger, “I think it takes way more work and creativity to make what you need to make... from _ inside _the sandbox… rather than with free reign of the yard.” She twists the glass in her hand. Inches it aside. There’s a condensation ring on the tablecloth. “You know?”

Pearl emphatically does not. She has the crinkly, nervous smile on again. “I understood up until the sandbox.”

Ah, right. Sheena scrubs a hand over her mouth. Really got to get literal for her. “No worries. It’s not the big one, anyway.” 

“What’s the big one?” Pearl’s already halfway through her glass. Her eyes are wide. And yeah, it’s been a minute since a pretty girl’s hung onto Sheena’s every word. It’s more warming than the stout.

She wets her lips. Thinks.

“You know the hardest thing to kill?” She lets her voice simmer to a murmur. “More durable than humans, even.” Hints at a grin, just the corner of her mouth. But Pearl is watching her with mortal severity. Sheena wets her lips again. “Information.” She drops her eyes. “Once it’s out? Damn near impossible to put that genie back in the bottle.” The plump drops of condensation are heavy, but none run together to drip down the glass. “And I think the best way to get information to people is in one image.

“It’s instant. Non-verbal. ‘Here is violence.’ ‘Here is injustice.’ ‘Here is your world, here is _ you, _ sprawled out on the butcherblock.’” Her hand clutches an invisible marquee with each statement. But then Sheena pulls back, tracing a finger to her temple. “And if you do it just right, you can get to people in that _ exact _ spot in their brain that actually drives them to _ do _something.” 

Doing. Not agreeing. Not commiserating. Not waiting around, shaking their heads. 

Sheena goes on. “Art’s wonderful. Can make you think, can make you feel.” The condensation only rolls once she twists the glass again, and brings it up for another pull. “Thinking is great. Feeling is fine. But we don’t have enough _ doing. _”

The last word grates, sandpapery. Shit. Coming in a little hot. Sheena’s normally not the long-winded type. She cuts short on her sip of stout -- should maybe have stuck to one. But it drowns out another soap boxism, and helps her avoid Pearl’s eyes. Slides a look to the right again, to Camp Camel Hair Coat. Their table is lined with thimbly martini glasses, business cards. Someone’s in the middle of an anecdote about golf.

What the hell was she thinking? Picking this place.

The quiet stretches on. Pearl’s probably twisting her napkin-flower, hoping for a change in subject. So Sheena turns back, about to ask, eh, about her jacket --

\-- to find Pearl clutching the sides of the table, eyes glittering dragonish. ”You’re a _ rebel._” 

“Uh.” Sheena's face is hot. Why is her face hot? This fucking stout, man. “... maybe more of a punk.” Sheena’s embarrassed. Why is she _embarrassed?_ “But… I mean, about that. Recently, I’ve been kinda --”

But Pearl is rapt. “How do you do it?” It almost comes out a hiss. Her big blue eyes pin Sheena like a bug to cork. “What do you capture?”

Sheena shrugs, hard. Tries to roll the attention off her shoulders. “Different things. You know.” It almost works. She chances a glance at Pearl again and it’s like looking dead-on into a stagelight. Shit. Might wince, a little. “But… like I said.” Sheena sinks back into her seat. “Been jammed up, lately.”

In the literal and figurative sense. Getting your camera smashed to fishing lures in the evidence room doesn’t pay much in the way of bills. And Sheena… well. Sheena’s had some blocks.

Maybe Pearl picks up on her nerves. “I’m sorry to hear it.” She backs up. Turns the intensity down. “That can be difficult. But then, can I ask what --” ooh, she double-thinks that one. But forges on anyway. “What have you photographed recently?”

Ah. 

“... weddings.” Comes out a mumble. “Headshots... Commercial shit.” Whoops. Hypocrite. Bitter, bitter. Sheena turns her palms to the ceiling. Grinning flimsy, flip. “Counterculture’s gotta eat.”

Wow, she’s kind of fucking this date up. She sounds like a mess. Maybe Sheena can resuscitate some confidence with actual flirting. 

Pearl’s on edge again. Lip between her teeth. Seems like she has many things to say, and is simply having a hard time choosing.

But Sheena beats her to it. “Finished the wine.” She nods at Pearl’s empty glass. “How did you like it?

She blinks and follows Sheena’s eyeline. _ Oh_, her lips shape. “... it was quite nice.”

“Feel okay?

“Yes.” The intensity from before mellows. “I’m… rather relaxed.”

Cute. Sheena peels herself off the backrest again, hunching languid over the table. “Well, that’s good.”

“I’m _ never _relaxed.” Awed, a little. She looks up from dazedly studying the curves of glass to Sheena. Kind of unfocused.

Oop. Maybe a little _ too _relaxed.

“Do you want some water?” Sheena’s already looking over her shoulder for a self-serve pitcher. But Pearl waves her off. Alright then.

“So.” Sheena folds her hands. Studies Pearl from behind them. “Any altered perceptions yet? Fresh insights into the human psyche?”

“I’ve been speculating how your lip ring would feel.”

May as well have grabbed some icewater for herself. Feels like someone dumped a pitcher of it right over Sheena’s head. Pearl watches. But not in a teasing way, or hungry, or even mischievous. It’s an airy expression. Idle. Curious.

_ Easy, tiger. _

Sheena lets her eyebrows tug up, slow. Shrugs. Getting some major shoulder reps in tonight. But cool as she keeps her face, her throat has to clear a tick before she answers. “Like metal, I guess.”

Pearl giggles. Like, _ giggles. _ That’s fucking cute.

“I’m sorry, was that strange? It feels as though I’ve said something strange.” Her fingers reach but don’t quite touch the rock in her forehead. “Perception-wise I feel very aware of the physical, right now. Very present. Perhaps it’s because of all the shapeshifting...” She studies her hands. “Is that what it’s like for you?”

”... yeah.” Not a bad way to put it. “Sometimes it just makes what I’m feeling a louder version of itself.”

“Louder?”

“Yeah. Louder.” Not necessarily deeper. Not really _ more_. “When you’re happy, you feel _ all _of that happy. Different parts of it.” She pinches the air and twists. “Turned allll the way up.” 

Same for drinking when she’s down. But Sheena’s pretty good at dodging that nowadays.

“Fascinating.” Pearl’s eyes haven’t left the hand that twisted the air. Yeah, girl looks pretty spacey. “I was quite nervous, earlier. Should I feel exceptionally nervous now?”

“Do you?”

“No.” Soft. Like it’s a secret. The corners of her mouth crimp. “It’s nice.”

Sheena’s hands go wide. False-false modesty. "Could be the company."

Pearl doesn’t answer but the smile stays. 

When a passing server scoops up Pearl’s wineglass and asks, “Another?” Sheena starts to beg him off -- Pearl’s clearly not a drinker, and Sheena would feel like an ass letting her get smashed -- but Pearl says “Yes,” and damn, you know? She’s an adult. She can make her own decisions. Not Sheena’s business.

But Sheena feels like an ass anyway. “Uh, hey. You sure? Feeling okay?”

“I feel very okay.” Pearl nods. “And I can _ improve _upon the okay.”

“Ah, well,” shit, way to get it twisted, “it’s not -- not quite like that, the first time drinking.” She’s almost flustered. 

“How so?”

“It’s… you know. Diminishing returns type thing. Especially before you build up a tolerance.” She scrubs a hand over her chin. “It’s a toxin, remember?”

“Yes! I do. Hence _ intoxication_.” Pearl grins (not a smile, a _ grin_), “Another word you give too many meanings.”

Sheena blinks. Oh, right. The human thing again. She sags back into her seat. It’s not like they’re arguing or anything, but somehow Sheena feels outsmarted. 

Fine; she can roll with the change of topic. She blows a bang out of her face. “Two definitions is too many?”

Pearl’s flushed again. Not likely to fade anytime soon. “One would suffice.”

Feels like a set-up for a poly joke. Sheena weighs it; Sheena discards. Way too early for something that delicate.

“Yeah. Well.” She’s down to half her own drink. “Guess both versions do make for poor decision-making.”

A long, downy hum from across the table brings her eyes up again. Like unspooling a favorite scarf. She’s got an incredible voice. Pearl’s posture is prim, but not forced; and she inhales, slow, and sighs with another hum, like she’s warming up for a show. “‘Intoxication,’” she says. Recites. 

Quiet again. Not the bad kind. Not uncomfortable. It’s nice, even. 

“Sheena.” Pearl watches from across the table. “Have you ever been in love?”

Haha… jeez. She’s got the cliché bingo card over there.

“Getting real in here.” Sheena breathes a laugh. Tries to let it slide off.

“Have you?”

Dogged. 

”Nah, man.” It’s probably true. “But I’ve been a doormat.” Sure. Sheena’s been plenty clueless, with even less reason for it.

“Doormat…” Her lips purse. Sheena can almost watch the puzzle pieces come together. “You’ve been stepped on.”

“Yeah. Hey, you’re getting good at that.” Maybe she can slink out the side door to another topic.

“How did you begin to finally know?” Pearl’s hands are back on the table and she draws Sheena’s eyes again. It’s hard to look away. “That you were being treated unfairly.”

Man. She really wants to talk about Sheena being a loser. Grin and bear it. “I started liking myself more.” Sure. Started liking that gal enough to stick up for her. And about damn time, too.

Pearl leans in, keen as fresh cut tin. There’s some emotion bubbling up here.

Sheena brings her glass to her lips like a shield.

“How?” Pearl asks. 

Oof. Alright. Feels like Pearl’s letting on a little more than she means to. She doesn’t look in distress: no tearing up or anything. But goddamn. There’s some of that earlier intensity pouring back on.

Her hands go up -- mouth opens, shuts. Shrugs. “I just lucked out, I guess.” Nervous laugh. Gotta turn this train around. Sheena almost trips over her words cutting back in. ”What about you, what made you like yourself.”

“Fighting.” Hands flat on the table clench. Pearl’s eyes drop to stare holes into the backs of them. They tent, like a cage, “Protecting…” Her left hand turns up and her fingers curl. “Creating.” She’s holding something invisible. She looks like she’s listening to sounds very, very far away.

Sheena wets her lips. She keeps her voice low. “That’s… those are pretty good ones.”

Her mouth opens, closes. For a moment it looks like her breathing’s coming heavier but Sheena sees she isn’t breathing at all. Something passes through Pearl. A wave of tension. A slow, static crawl from the top of her head to the tips of her fingers. She still has the faraway look from before. But nothing about it is unfocused.

Their eyes meet. 

Sheena had some outdoorsy stints back west. In Cascade. Did a lot of mushroom-picking and trail-hiking, a little free climbing. Never considered herself the squeamish type. But she got to dust off a new side of herself when she bad-lucked onto soft footing near the side of a ravine. Buddy, buddy. Peeled her palms and shins like juicy oranges, trying to keep from sliding in. And the look over her shoulder -- which of course you _ never _do -- down, down into centuries of indifferent earth. 

The look on Pearl’s face is somehow like that. 

“Pearls, you know,” quiet, fevered, fingers sifting on the linen, “we aren’t made with our own weapons to summon like other gems --” uh? “-- we aren’t _ for _ that. A waste of precious gem space, they would say. If the possibility even occurred to them. I’m certain I was the first -- it took me _ years -- _” 

“Hey -- uh --”

“Swords were my first, and I became _masterful_with them, but it can never replicate the power of something created with your own gem. Your own essence, it’s _ you _\--” the tablecloth bunches under her fists, “it can’t be taken from you, it’s always a part of you -- like your own limb, your own _ voice -- _”

Hers rises; they are getting some _ looks. _

“-- you can tell a lot about a gem by the weapon they manifest and _ mine _ told me I am _ focused, _ I am _ singular, _ I am inexorable and unyielding, it was proof that when I pursue a point it is with _ all _of me --”

_ Clatter: _her chair jackknifes back, legs scattered up like a dead bug as Pearl high-steps onto the table. The empty wineglass goes splintering to the wall next to them, and Pearl puts off the electric chill of calculated violence in waves: chest high: chin high: she’s tipped up like the prize at the bottom of a tiger pit at some poor thirty foot bastard at the other end of the room no one else can see.

Sheena stiff-arms back out of reflex, and bumps her chair into the slack-jawed server from before. He has Pearl’s second glass of Riesling. 

_ “Ma’am!” _ from across the room, yeah, good luck pal, “_Ma’am, _you can’t --”

“-- and that all of me is one _ hundred thousand times _ what they _ ever _ thought they saw!” And when she reaches up to pull a six foot spear from the glowing stone in her head, the motion’s not fast enough to dodge the naked eye but it is goddamn near.

* * *

They end up at the coffeeshop anyway. 

Pearl, apparently, can will herself to metabolize alcohol semi-instantly. And she does. Sobers up right away. But she earns a headache for her trouble. It’s got her miserable, now, groaning softly from where she’s hunched over her arms at the other side of the table. The polar opposite of all the poise she’s shown so far. And now that Sheena can see the thing in her head flickering sickly like low battery, she wants to give herself a smack across the back of the neck. How do you miss _ that? _

“Truly. I can’t apologize enough.” She’s half-muffled in her elbow. “That’s not my best side, I… I get carried away.”

Sure the wine helped with that. “It wasn’t a _ bad _ side.” Really. Sheena couldn’t care less about the scandalized yuppies, or the broken glassware. Or the maître drill sergeant flushing dark as beef stew and barking at them to get out. Hell, fuck the _ tab. _

“So you’re a for real alien.”

Big sigh. Pearl slouches forward even more, cheek buried into her jacket sleeve. “Yes. Yes. Yes, Sheena. I am from space.”

Okay, but like.

Sheena points out the window at the sky. Pearl smiles tightly, and nods. Once. “I tried to tell you.” 

“You did.” She lets out a sloooow, gravelly sigh. Boy didn't she.

Sheena offered yet another beverage when they entered, if only out of habit. Feels rude not to. And Pearl surprisingly asked for a tea. Wouldn’t have figured. She hasn’t taken so much as a drop; just holds it in the loose scoop of her fingertips and stares into it miserably every so often. Seems she just wants to touch it. Kind of like the napkins maybe.

It also smells nice. That seems to help, too.

The coffee’s burnt. Sheena drinks it anyway. Just to have something to do besides stare at her date. Her date who is from space. Yes. This is fine, it’s whatever. This might as well happen. It's fine, it's practically normal, it’s _ fine. _

She catches Pearl peering up at her. Peeking around her sleeve. There’s a question there. So Sheena perks her eyebrows up in invitation.

“What are you thinking about?” Pearl asks. Maybe it’s exhaustion, or late for her, or maybe it’s just muffled by her jacket. But the murmur comes out way too bedroom-soft.

Makes the booth feel cramped. Sheena shifts. Resettles.

“I’m not sure where to ask you to begin.” Her thumb swipes the cardboard holder around her cup. Satisfying rasp. “And I feel kinda stupid for not believing you.”

“You’re not stupid.” Pearl sits up, too quickly -- she winces. Brings a hand to her head. “... it’s perfectly reasonable, to need more information. I should have better prepared to explain.”

Her forehead glows. The little round rock (it’s a pearl, duh, an _ actual _pearl) lights up, and spits a picture on the wall right next to them. Like an old-timey projector. The images are sharp but it’s all tinted a ghostly, pneumonia-blue.

“Since you’re very visual.” Pearl’s voice is soft. “I am, too.”

The image clears to something familiar. The solar system. Good old Earth. 

“We’re here. As you well know.” Earth shrinks, shrinks, shrinks… vanishes. Still the image pans outwards. Farther and farther.

When it finally pans back in, Sheena finds herself exhaling in a hiss. It’s _ a _ planet. Sure. Or it looks like it _ was _a planet. At some point. Got on the wrong side of a fist of God.

“I’m from here.” Pearl’s mouth films over the soft consonants like scar tissue: “Homeworld.”

_ Homeworld. _

Sheena tries it out, silent. Her answer comes as a croak. “Awful cozy name.” 

“It is not a cozy place.” Flat-eyed. Quiet. 

Sheena’s stomach turns. 

“Homeworld,” the picture pulls back, showing other smaller planets turning grey, “is violently imperialist. To all surrounding life, and planets. A robust military is its top priority.” The image changes: flat caricatures, silhouettes. One like Pearl. Big blocky types. Too many. “There are different types of gems made for this purpose. Soldiers and guards and officers. Healers, advisors. Clerks and technicians… others.” Her throat clears. She goes on. “Homeworld expands to grow its ranks and uses those new gems to expand further. To invade, exhaust resources, and move on.”

A close-up of a planet shows it being sucked dry, left a husk. 

“Homeworld wanted the same for Earth. About 6,000 years ago.” Earth again. Spaceships hemming in like horseflies. “But some of us defected. And stopped it from happening.”

The projection goes soggy, uncertain. Sheena checks to see if Pearl’s racked with another headache, and instead finds herself studied closely. Waiting for a response.

Like Sheena’s got anything interesting to contribute. But she tries anyway. “So you... got out of there.”

The light show flickers again. Pearl’s careful. “In so many words. Yes.”

Sheena’s got a decent bullshit detector… when she isn’t trying too hard, apparently. Pearl doesn’t seem happy about what she’s sharing. Far from it. She’s not flexing. Not feeding Sheena lines. If anything, Pearl seems eaten up about how the human will take it. And Sheena’s not clueless. She can feel when there’s delicate ground. 

Yeah, she wants to know more. No, this ain’t the time.

“‘Your species and your planet and you’re welcome.’” She breaks the pause. Half-grins. “Hey. I owe you one.”

Pearl’s eyes widen. Then she breathes a laugh. 

Sheena opens her mouth to get another one of those laughs, but jumps instead when the barista sneaks up on her elbow. Frazzled-looking kid. Definitely overworked. “Excuse me… sorry, we’re closing in ten. If you two wouldn’t mind --”

“Yes. We will.” The projection blinks out, and Pearl pushes herself upright. Slowly this time. “Thank you.”

The barista gives not a single shit about the slideshow projecting from her customer’s head. She trudges off, already calling back to a coworker behind the counter.

Sheena feels her jaw slack. But she’s quick to snap it back up. “Did she not...?”

“You didn’t either.” A little miffed. “Honestly… I can never figure out what is going to shock humans.”

They stand; they stretch; they go. 

It’s coming up on autumn outside. Gonna need more than a flannel soon. Sheena skims her hands together two, three times. “Getting kinda late. Where did you park?” She’ll be a gentleman.

“Park?”

“Yeah. Your car.”

“Oh, no. I was transported here. I, um, have a_ ride _ back.” Pearl edges her a sly look. “May I walk you to _ your _car?”

Is this her flirting? Is this a relief response? Sheena feels her face go crooked. "I know for a fact you know what I drive."

Pearl laughs once behind her hand. Must be feeling _ much _ better. She mosies one step ahead, hands behind her back. "Oh? Do I?"

Sheena likes. She likes sly Pearl very much. “So that must’ve been some other cute alien checking me out on the road."

The mood lightens by a long shot. Some teasing, Sheena makes a dumb spaceship joke.

So her date is some kind of alien general or commander who’s not keen on talking about it but dipped once she had the chance. That’s good. Good politics. Sheena can’t stand military types. 

Obviously there’s more to it. But maybe not for a first date.

The stroll is easy all the way to Sheena’s bike. She flourishes her arm, a little “_ ta-da,_” and says something goofy about red lights. Pearl flushes (it’s _ blue,_ how the _ hell _ did Sheena overlook?) and babbles some kind of riposte, they’re both dropping the ball, they stumble and sound like dumb kids, you know, it’s whatever. It’s fine. It’s _ fun _. Sheena leans against the seat and Pearl stands in front of her, giggling. Got her arms crossed over her chest. When she laughs, there’s no vapor.

Sheena smiles at her. It’s not her easy smile. Probably looks dorky. Fuck it, man. She lets it stretch a second more before her face smooths. “Pearl.”

“Sheena." She mirrors the tone. Cheeky.

Cute. Sheena lets her voice go dark as the coffee. “Do you like to kiss?” 

The sneaky look vanishes. Her breath tugs, eyes wide. But then a quiet smile. “Yes. I do.”

Sheena shifts her heels. Not too much. “Human custom if a date goes well.”

”I-I would say that’s up to you.” But she inches closer.

Shit, man. Sheena goes slow. She reaches. Rests a few fingers where Pearl’s arms are crossed. She tugs, gentle, and Pearl steps close enough to brush against the insides of her knees.

Sheena gives her a moment. A chance to back out. Then she cups Pearl by the elbows. But before she can pull her closer, Pearl’s arms uncross, and she gasps -- says “Wait.”

Sheena can do that. She waits.

“Oh.” Pearl sounds light-headed. Looks it, too. “You’re…” 

She’s moving. Sheena holds still as Pearl’s hands go to frame her face by the cheeks. Sheena lets her. No problem. Take your time, cowpoke. Her skin is cool as glass. 

“You’re so warm,” Pearl breathes.

The clenched fists on the table. The spear in her hand.

And now both of them around Sheena's delicate dome. Some kind of ancient star-killer's got prime position for a one hit quit.

_But protecting, too. _One of her important things. Not just war. Not just violence._ Creating._ If Pearl’s hands are calloused then Sheena can’t tell.

She feels swallowed up by her eyes, big and blue and luminous. Beautiful but eerie. Every moment tonight that Sheena’s felt _ assessed _doesn’t come close. This? Here? Is an examination. For all that it’s just careful touch, tracing easy as she did with her cup of tea. It’s the most alien Pearl has felt all night. 

But it’s… effecting. Sheena lets her. There's a building film of static along her skin from the trickle of dopamine. The proximity. Anticipation. This close, she can study Pearl's skin too. Smooth and poreless. Not a trace of wear, wrinkles. It evaporates any remaining speck of doubt that she ain’t from around here.

Clinical, and inhuman. But gentle. 

The cool thumb traces that chunk under Sheena's eyebrow, from years back. Left it in some drunk asshole's car when he veered into the side of a gas station. Been a fan of riding solo ever since.

"You have scar tissue here.” Her murmur scrapes pleasant along the back of Sheena's neck, like a cat getting a good scratch.

Makes her shiver. Can't help it. "… yeah.”

”Is it painful?”

"... Nah, man." She swallows. "Healed years ago.” 

She makes a shapeless hum in answer. Her thumb brushes, barely, and when she whispers “Yet here it is," the sound's so fogged and melancholy Sheena's certain it's not meant for her.

Their noses brush. She can feel Pearl breathe in her scent -- not like any lover Sheena's had before. More like she's taking data. A puff of breath brushes her lips, and long fingers weave through her hair with such tender slowness that it sends a fizzy torrent of tingles through her skull, down Sheena's neck, through her lungs to her heels, like a candyshop electric chair. It is the most devastatingly sensual moment in memory.

Pearl whispers, “May I kiss you?” and Sheena doesn’t answer. She just kisses her. Pearl is organless and bloodless and has the body heat of a bowl of fruit but her lips are soft. And gentle, and curious. And clever. They take a moment to find a symmetry between them -- Sheena’s mouth is wider, fuller -- but then they fall into a rhythm. And then they’re kissing easy against her bike like they've been doing it for years.

Sheena can handle the delicate lips shaping slow against hers. She can even handle the roll of tongue, lush and criminal, petting sweet and lazy into her mouth. But when tender teeth close cautious around her lip ring, and give a testing _ tug_, the tease drives through Sheena like a smoking-fresh spike: pins her whole, through her belly to the bike. 

Pearl gasps and pulls out of the kiss when Sheena grabs her by the waist and yanks her forward until they’re flush -- hip to hip, chest to chest. Her long hands brace against Sheena’s shoulders to pull back. To get a better look at her. They’re both breathing heavy.

“You’re very flushed,” Pearl murmurs, low with wonder. A hand goes to her cheek. “Though… I suppose I am, as w--”

“Come home with me,” Sheena rumbles coalish before she can stop it. 

Shit.

Pearl’s entire face goes as blue as her jacket. “Oh!”

_ Fuck. _ Sheena grits her teeth.

“Sorry.” She releases her hold and wipes a hand over her mouth, waving apology with the other. As if that’ll scrub the wordbubble out of the air. "Sorry, sorry.”

“Ah…” Pearl laughs, nervous. “Perhaps another time.” But she doesn’t step away.

“Right.” Sheena scratches the back of her head. Her lips still tingle, tongue still buzzing, like she’s been using a sparkplug as hard candy. “Listen. Let’s pretend I didn’t say that. Don’t get the wrong idea.”

“What idea?” She’s not teasing. Genuine question.

Sheena lets her eyes slide down Pearl’s neck. Then off to the side. A couple is climbing into their old beater across the lot, putting off fracas in waves. Looks like they’re going to fight in the car. “That I don’t want to get to know you better. You know?”

Pearl seems to consider this. One hand goes to her chin and Sheena can tell she’s mulling over it. Then she goes _ ah! _ and draws Sheena’s eyes back with her fingertips on her cheek. She points skyward, poindexter style. “_You _ mean prior to intercourse!” 

Sheena stares.

And then laughs -- _ laughs -- _ shit, man. It’s one of her belly laughs with the funhouse acoustics. Ah well. It’s whatever. If Pearl won't judge for the big id spike, she likely won't judge for that. In for a penny. 

Pearl looks dumbstruck. She says nothing while Sheena recovers, shrugging as she leans back into the seat.

“Yeah. I guess I do.” The whole casual thing just isn’t on her plate right now. Hard to imagine it’s on Pearl’s either. “Hope that’s okay.”

“You have a beautiful laugh.” Soft.

Sheena hums. Sweet of her to say. 

But Pearl presses close again. It’s impressive, seeing as she never pulled away. “May I kiss you again?”

Ah, man. Just the one deepfried her brain. “You’re killing me, here.”

She stiffens a moment. Then relaxes. “You’re using a turn of phrase.”

“Yeah.” Sheena should _really _try to cut back up on those. “You’ve already made me lose my cool.”

Pearl mouths _ 'Lose my cool_.’ Then smiles. “From one kiss?” The words vibrate. “You are a master of flattery.”

Alright. Another laugh. Quieter, this time. That’s good. ”Yeah dude. Five stars.” She flips her hair over her shoulder and can feel where she’d begun to sweat. Even in the cold. “Feel free to quote me on your profile.”

“I’m not certain that would have the intended effect. Seeing that might deter people…” Calculator time. Sheena watches the math behind Pearl’s eyes. “What would be the intended effect?”

To confuse cute alien girls. Obviously. 

“Not sure.” She squeezes a fist, pops a couple knuckles. Finds something interesting in the corner of the lot to glance at. “We can talk about it next time, if you want. Discuss the pros and cons.”

“‘Next time.’” The sneaky smile is back.

“Is there an echo out here?”

“Does that mean you’d like to see me again?”

“Yeah.” She lets that sit. A group of people must be piling out of someplace nearby, because there’s hooting and hollering that fades after a few. “I really would.” 

Across the lot, the beater revs twice, asthmatic, and putters out onto the main road. Sheena shifts in her boots. Just a little. Then she finally looks back at Pearl. “That okay?”

"Yes." Pearl’s hand finds hers. She doesn’t take it -- doesn’t hold -- just traces fingertips along the back. Hard to mind the chill. "I like you, Sheena."

Freezes. Insides cinch. Stunned silence. If Pearl notices Sheena’s fingers curling in the leather seat, she doesn’t let on.

“I’ll be retrieved soon.” Pearl’s free hand edges the phone out of her jeans pocket, and she looks _ very _human for a moment: just another cute, hip queer, checking out her options in between the bullshit. “Should we say goodnight?”

“Yeah.” Think fast. Sheena wouldn’t mind another kiss. Really, she’d _ love _one. But better to leave off on a sweet note than have her head crammed up in crass places. “Can I give you a hug?” Ooh, hm. That might sound like a non-sequitur. “A hug goodnight.”

“Oh,” Pearl brightens, eager, “yes.”

She takes a step back so Sheena has room to stand. Her smile’s nervous, but she's smiling as her head tips back.

Sheena gives great hugs. You bet. She’s got broad shoulders, sturdy arms, plenty of padding, and knows better than to do the weird collarbone bump thing. And Pearl appreciates. Once she’s wrapped up, she shivers “_oh,” _ and nuzzles underneath Sheena’s chin. What the fuck. Super sweet. The hard curve of her gem presses into the side of Sheena’s neck, and she's shocked to find it is the warmest part of her.

They stand, just like that. Hugging. She’s a lanky little whip of a thing. There’s not much scent to her, but what Sheena can pick up on is soothing. Clean. Makes her think of fresh sheets. 

It’s a minute before she feels the moisture on her skin. There's a faint sniffle. She doesn’t jerk away, but maybe Pearl feels her suck in a tiny breath because she mumbles into Sheena’s skin: “Just a little longer.”

That doesn’t really clear things up. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes.” Her arms squeeze. Tucks herself deeper under her chin. “Please. Just a little longer.” 

No problem. Sheena relaxes; Pearl relaxes. She isn’t sobbing, but the breaths she pulls in are of the slow, trembly, trying-to-control-myself variety. Sheena finds herself rubbing slow circles along her back. Stroke her hair? Nah, just hold her. The longer they hold, the warmer Pearl seems to become in her arms. Sheena’s weight shifts. Just a little. There, in her boots: rocks a fraction, left to right. It seems to calm them both.

Her hitching smooths. Deep, even breaths. 

When Pearl disentangles from the long arms around her, she’s puffy-eyed but smiling. “That,” her voice wobbles, “was a _ superb _hug.”

Big grin. Good. “Better than a handshake, huh?” 

“Oh, unequivocally_ . _ In all categories.” She swipes a sleeve over her cheek. “I bequeath upon you a rating of _ six _stars.”

"I don’t think they let you go that high.” 

“Then the vague referent responsible for overseeing such reviews can, as they say, fight me.” She seems kind of giddy. It’s so damn cute. 

Sheena’s about to offer another hug when something fucking explodes. 

Okay -- _ no _ but it _ sounds _like it. The air next to them rips open like a busted tracksuit and a goddamn pink lion hurtles into the lot, cardboard and crates scattering underfoot. It kicks a back paw out. There’s some toilet paper stuck to it.

“_What.” _

“Oh, there you are.” Pearl neatly pivots away and straightens her jacket. A little flustered-looking. “Er, Steven’s not with you?”

The thing grumbles. Pearl clicks her tongue and mosies closer, plucking some schmutz out of the fur on its shoulder. “I warned him about that. Just because Amethyst can fit doesn’t mean it’s easy. I suppose I can just use some oil… hmm.”

She’s already halfway onto the thing’s back when she glances back at Sheena. Still frozen on the bike’s seat. “Oh, and goodnight! I had a lovely time.” Shy grin, _ shy grin -- _ “Please give me, ah, please _ text _ me when you get home safely.”

The lion rips open the air again -- some kind of _ vortex, _hell if Sheena knows -- and the two of them leave with as much notice and ceremony as the couple in the beater. Then it’s just Sheena alone in the back lot.

Another group of revelers filter down the street, somewhere on the other side of the building. It gives Sheena a backdrop for… yeah, wow. What even. Processing, she would call it.

Not the _ weirdest _ thing she’s done with a Thursday night.

… okay, it is. But not by, like, _ a lot. _If you combine a few top candidates.

Sheena takes a long minute. In the quiet. Traffic sounds are clear now that it’s just her. Hard not to laugh, a little. Her hand comes up for the pack of cigarettes she stopped carrying over a year ago, and it wins another laugh for the night. Ah, man.

She straightens up (pops her back -- was getting stiff, there) and throws one leg over the bike. Already getting to cold leather season. She gives the seat a minute to warm up, and starts the engine to let that warm, too. Pulls her phone out. Piddles with it. Brings up the app for DecentVenus, and taps a few selections.

**Are you sure? “OK” to confirm**

**[OK]**

**Account Deactivated **

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after CYM and “peace” but I mean damn... if I were Pearl I’d use present tense for all the homeworld bullshit too
> 
> “Cascade” is what I’m going with for the like washington/oregon area of the pacific, due to the region's rich natural deposits of flannely lesbians 
> 
> I know Bismuth upgraded the spear to a trident but…. Honestly…....i like the spear more......
> 
> *amethyst probably watched a Jackass analogue and gave herself bones at one point just to see what it’s like to break one
> 
> Personal headcanon that Pearls (just like real pearls) are really cool but warm up against bodyheat! the implications! the next loose continuation will involve this in a surface level type of way
> 
> And I mean yes Pearl is extremely awkward and uncertain but that lesbian has nat 20’d every single kiss check in her life. That shits lethal. good luck asshole. She might get sniffly over a good hug but best believe those lips are gonna melt the clothes straight off your body. Quote me


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